The Meatpuppeteer
by Curlycurlz
Summary: Esmeralda discovers a certain puppet kiosk and begins to suspect that everything - the Festival, the witch hunt, the battle - was orchestrated knowingly and silently by one unlikely man. Meanwhile, she and Phoebus watch their relationship evolve. Oneshot


This is a little epilogue to the events of the movie. In writing it, my primary goal was to pinpoint Clopin's function as a character. My secondary goal was to explore the mindstates and relationships of key players in the aftermath of those life-changing days. My tertiary goal was to dose myself with enough melodrama to get through exam season. Enjoy the following morsel - I've added plenty of ham and a self-indulgent handful of cheese.

* * *

><p>So in all the frenzy following that fateful Feast of Fools, nobody had remembered to pack everything away in storage. The tents and kiosks were lying haphazardly around the Court of Miracles, and it was with a lot of resentment that those in charge began the arduous clean up. Quasimodo, who had been tending to the wounded Archdeacon in the days following the battle, left him with a bowl of soup and a good book and came to help. Phoebus had been declared the interim mayor of Paris and he offered to send a squad of footsoldiers to do the dirty work, but Esmeralda pointed out that he was clearly just looking to flex his leadership muscles and the offer was politely declined.<p>

There was one little tent lying apart from the heap, and that's where Esmeralda and Quasimodo started. "Huh, I don't think I recognize this one," said Esmeralda with a note of surprise, since she'd been doing this for years and helped make a good deal of the tents herself. Ruined tent sheets became her dresses, and her ruined dresses became spangles and flags to adorn the tents. They picked out the poles and platforms and started laying out the sheets to fold them when a little puppet popped out and rolled a few inches away.

They could tell without picking it up that it was a Frollo.

Honestly, it was a little upsetting. Esmeralda was still coughing up ashy phlegm from her near-immolation and Quasimodo's heart was still in pieces. Esmeralda knelt quickly, hoping to chuck the puppet into a corner or something, but something caught her eye and she stood there, staring at it.

"What's wrong?" said Quasi.

"Nothing... I just don't recognize this. Look at what it's holding." She turned the puppet towards Quasi and between his puppet hands was a little grey bundle.

"It looks like a baby," said Quasi quietly.

"Why would he be holding a baby? What sick person would make a show where that monster has _anything_ to do with a baby?"

"Whoops, it looks as though I've left my things lying around once again!" cried Clopin, snatching the puppet out of her hands.

"Where did you come from?"

"I'll take care of this one. You two young ones go on. Enjoy yourselves!"

"No, we'll help you..."

"Go! Go! It's a lovely day in Paris," he crowed as he began to roll up a curtain, exposing the backdrop underneath. Quasi gasped.

"Is that the Cathedral?"

"So much to do, so much to be done..."

"Clopin!" said Esmeralda firmly. "Remember how we talked about actually speaking to people and listening to what they say?"

Clopin paused, dropped the curtain, and swept into a deep bow. "Of course, _ma belle_. Silly me. I promised to do better. Well? What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was wondering where this tent came from. I haven't seen it before."

"Oh," said Clopin evasively. "It's just a little something I whipped up in my leisure time. A little show I wanted to try out."

"What was the show about?"

"About all things human, my dear. Good and evil. Growing up. Love."

"Was the show about him?" asked Esmeralda, pointing to Quasimodo, who gasped again.

"Whatever gave you that indication, _chérie_?"

Esmeralda threw her hands up. "I don't know. The backdrop is the Cathedral-"

"Oh, I'm so glad you could tell! I think myself a terrible painter."

"Remember? Listening?" Clopin touched two fingers to his closed lips and nodded. "It's set at the Cathedral, and then that puppet..."

"What puppet?"

"Clopin!"

"Oh, you mean _this_ puppet," he said, raising it gingerly. He'd placed it on his hand and was making little Frollo bow his head sheepishly. Esmeralda snatched it back.

"What's this little bundle? Is it a baby?"

Clopin scratched his head and looked up to the ceiling. "Oh, I wish I could recall. Hm... is it a baby? Or is it cheese?" Esmeralda scoffed and began to pick through the rest of the pile. "Because it really might be cheese, I had cheese on my mind last week when I made it - Hey! I told you I would tidy it up!"

But Clopin made no move to stop her, and soon Esmeralda stood, holding a little cloth bundle in one hand and a paper screen in the other. On the screen was painted a series of stairs and levels, and nailed to its frame was a rope and the flat shape of a bell. Esmeralda handed the screen to Quasi and unwrapped the bundle. Inside were three flat, wooden shadow puppets on sticks: a Frollo, a Quasimodo, and what looked like a child-sized Quasimodo. "Aha!"

Clopin shrugged. "Perhaps it was a baby after all."

"When did you do all this?"

"Like I said, in my leisure time!"

"When did you _perform_ it, I mean?"

"Oh, it must have been... I seem to remember that the _boulanger_ had disposed of a good many brioches that day, must have been a spoiled batch of flour..."

"Clopin!"

"Yes?"

"Please answer me straight."

"Oh, yes. I recall," said Clopin with a strange combination of pageantry and hesitancy. "I believe it was the... morning of... the sixth of January."

There was a pause.

"So the Festival day."

"Yes."

"You could have said that."

"I suppose I could have! You are a woman of great intelligence, _chérie._"

Esmeralda pursed her lips. "I remember we couldn't find you that morning. We delayed the parade for two hours looking for you. You told us you... drank too much the night before and ended up in bed with Fleur-de-Lys de Gondelaurier." Esmeralda paused and cocked her eyebrow. "Well, she's a girl, that should have been my first clue."

Clopin sniggered. Quasimodo frowned, confused.

"And then you said that you were late because you had to hide under the bed until her husband left."

"Maybe that's what happened, it was so long ago..."

"Clopin, I swear to god." That shut him up. Quasimodo gasped again at the blasphemy. "So what you were actually doing was performing a show about Quasimodo and _that man_ to a bunch of children... on the Festival day. You knew those children would be there, and you knew Frollo would be there... did you know _he_ would be there?"

And then suddenly, Esmeralda put her hands to her mouth and gasped. And then she groaned. And then she gasped again.

"Esmeralda, what's the matter?" said Quasi, concerned. Esmeralda shook her head.

"Nothing... Why don't we let Clopin clean this up?"

Esmeralda was quiet and distracted for the rest of the day, but she wouldn't tell Quasimodo why.

* * *

><p>Later on, Quasimodo and Esmeralda managed to snag a few minutes alone. There was a tiny voice of reason in Esmeralda's head to leave well enough alone, but it was driving her crazy. She had to know.<p>

"Quasi," she said, taking his big hands in hers, "How well do you remember the day of the Festival?"

Quasimodo stared at her for a few seconds. "It was the first day of my life, Esmeralda. I remember everything."

She smiled. "Ok. Could you... tell it to me?"

"Why? You were there."

"I want to hear it from your perspective. I want to hear everything that happened from the minute you decided to go."

"Well, I put on my cloak, I scaled down the Cathedral wall, jumped to a post, grabbed onto a string of flags... then the flags unwound from the post so I swung in and ended up dead center of the square... the parade was coming in at that point... and then it was just insanity until, you know."

"Did you and Clopin ever interact?" she pressed.

"Are you kidding me? At the time I thought he was chasing me."

She gulped. "What do you mean?"

"It must have been a coincidence, but every time I turned around I felt like he was there, pushing me to be seen." He smiled. "I was so nervous..."

"That _bastard_," hissed Esmeralda suddenly. Quasimodo seemed taken aback. "Tell me some of the things he did. Where did he push you?"

"It's like I said, I was so nervous..."

"No, Quasimodo. Don't be shy. Tell me."

He nodded. She realized she was probably scaring him, but she had to know. "Well, there was that time I ran into a tent to hide, but there were people in there, and they danced me into another tent, and, well, Clopin was with them, and he came up to me and started dancing with me, you know, like a girl would dance with a boy, and the tent was so small that when I pulled away I slipped right out of it and right into another - well - your tent."

"And that's how we met. I can't believe that - oh god. Oh, I'm sorry," she added before Quasimodo could say anything about her blasphemy. "Is there... I'm sorry, I'm not as knowledgeable about these things as you are. What can I say when I'm shocked? What do _you_ say?"

Quasimodo just stared at her.

"...Never mind. Um, is that it?"

"No, not at all." Esmeralda gulped. "Well, right before you came onstage to dance, I was standing in the square, looking for a place to hide, and he came right up behind me and pushed me to the edge of the stage..."

"Oh god."

"And then he vaulted over my shoulders onto it and then you came out and danced so beautifully."

"And he put you right where he knew I would see you," said Esmeralda.

Right on cue, Clopin whirled past them practicing a tumbling routine. Somehow, in mid-air, he managed to face them and wink. And then he was gone.

"Esmeralda, please tell me what's bothering you. Maybe I can help. What's going on?"

Esmeralda had to laugh at that. "That's the problem. there's nothing going on. I just think that something... _went_ on. I can't exactly say... I mean, I don't know for sure..." She turned to him and smiled. "No. Everything's fine."

"Maybe you're still feeling scared and sad about everything that happened. I know I am," he said soothingly. Esmeralda smiled and rubbed his back affectionately.

"I think you're right. Anyway, you should get back to the Cathedral."

"You're right, I should," said Quasimodo, glancing at the clock in the center of the mock square. "The Archdeacon needs his lunch. I'm sorry I can't stay to finish the job."

"Please. It's not your mess."

The hugged goodbye and Esmeralda watched him go, her look of resolve growing. "Everything's _not_ fine," she said aloud. "Clopin did something."

* * *

><p>"Clopin <em>did<em> something," she said later when she and Phoebus were alone together in his new quarters at the Palace of Justice.

"Do you know what I discovered today?" he said obliviously. His expression was so perturbed that Esmeralda laid her suspicions aside and listened. "There are people... a lot of people... women and single men, mostly... who..." He raked his hand through his hair. "They consider themselves on... Quasi's side."

"Everyone's on Quasi's side. What are you talking about?"

"No, not like that. I mean... they... think Quasi should have won. Should have beat me."

"Again. What are you talking about?"

He sighed perturbedly. "Well, they think you should have, er, _picked _him."

Esmeralda scowled. "Are you joking? _That's_ what people are saying? As though you both presented yourselves as suitors and I _selected _you? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. People actually believe this nonsense?" Phoebus sat heavily on the bed. "Oh no, it's not bothering you, is it? You know it's nonsense!"

"Esmeralda, you know the kid was in love with you. It was all over his face, everything he did. So yeah. I feel kinda guilty."

"Oh, baby, no." Esmeralda held him close and laid a lingering kiss on his cheek. "Listen. Those people don't know him. We do. He's a baby. He doesn't need a... a _lover_, for god's sake. What he needs is a mother. What kind of a woman would I be if..." Then she pulled back. "Hang on. What about me?"

"What about you?"

"Well, we're together. Would you _rather_ I be with Quasimodo? What the hell do you think I would get out of that relationship?"

Phoebus sighed. "Well, nothing, I suppose. What's your point?"

"I just think it's incredible. People who don't know what they're talking about, judging us. And for such a stupid reason. What the hell would Frollo have had to teach Quasimodo about love and marriage? Why do you think it's all women and single men? You wanted to say 'ugly men', didn't you? Of course they're going to... urgh."

"All right, fine, point taken," said Phoebus. "You were saying?"

"Oh, right. Clopin. Phoebus, I think he _did_ something."

Phoebus nodded seriously. "Well, in truth, he probably did about a hundred things just today alone. Breathing and taking a shit being among them."

Esmeralda cracked a smile despite herself. "Ha-ha. What I mean is, you know how everything just happened so fast? I think Clopin... made it... happen." She bit her lip. "Oh god, that sounds insane. I know it does."

"Well, it doesn't sound _that_ insane. Clopin makes a lot of things happen. What precisely are you talking about?"

His words did make her feel a bit better. "You're right. He does make things happen... that's his job. He knows how people work. We forget how well he knows, because he's always tumbling and cracking stupid jokes, but..." She gazed at the ceiling. "We have no idea what he's capable of."

"What do you think he did?''

Esmeralda scooted up onto her knees, a position she felt was more conducive to expressing her crazed epiphany. "On the morning of the Feast, before the parade started, Clopin was nowhere to be found. Today, just today, I found out that he'd been off performing a puppet show that - get this - no-one knew about. He made a tent special, didn't tell anyone, hid all of it, I assume, and then, the best part, he lied about it. Said he'd been hiding from Fleur-de-Lys Gondelaurier's husband under her bed."

"Yeah, well, that should've been your first clue."

"I know that now, but at the time it didn't matter, we were just pissed that he held up the proceedings."

"So what was this puppet show? What was so special about it that he had to hide it?"

"It's crazy. It's about Quasimodo. Well, from what I gathered, it's about how he came to be adopted by Frollo. Why would he make a show about that? Especially a kid's show? And lie about it?"

"I honestly have no idea."

"And not only that, but he performed it the very day of the festival, maybe two hours before Quasimodo left the bell tower for the first time in his life. It's too strange to be coincidence."

"I'm sorry, but how could it not be?"

"Well, that's the other thing. Hear me out. I spoke to Quasi-"

"You said all this to Quasi? That might have been a mistake."

"No, of course I didn't say _all this _to Quasi, I have some common sense. I just asked him to talk about that day, and I was expecting - maybe hoping that whatever he said would make it all untrue. But then... how about this. I saw him twice that day. Once, when he dive-bombed into my dressing tent by accident, and then when I took the stage he was standing right by it. And he told me today that him being there were the direct result of Clopin physically pushing him into the space. Like taking him by the shoulders and placing him there. Twice! And just think about it: if Clopin hadn't done that, I would never have noticed Quasimodo, or pulled him up on stage, and the rest of that day wouldn't have happened... which would mean that none of any of this would have happened."

"Hm," said Phoebus. He was seriously contemplating her words, which alarmed Esmeralda, as she could admit that part of her wanted to be drawing false conclusions. "If Quasi's remembering all that correctly, which I'm sure he is, then... I don't know. I just can't imagine Clopin _wanting_ all this to happen."

Suddenly, Esmeralda's eyes filled with tears. She pressed the heels of her hands against them. "That's just it. I don't want it to be true. I don't want to think that all of that pain he went through that day was... something Clopin wanted. You know how he disappears sometimes?"

"Yes?"

"He disappeared that day. The second that moron threw a tomato, I looked for him. He was just gone. I think he could have stopped it- but maybe he wanted it all to happen. It's too awful to thing about. I keep thinking about that day, and there's no way Quasimodo being crowned could have ended well... even if we just let him slink back into the cathedral when we found him out, he could have been spared all that."

"What else happened that Clopin could have caused?"

"You remember everything just as well as I do. And I hope he wasn't trying to get me burned because..."

"I couldn't forgive him for that," said Phoebus stormily.

"Me neither. But what was he trying to do? Draw Quasimodo out? Drive a stake through his and Frollo's relationship? What was he trying to do to Frollo? I mean, aside from his usual game of making Frollo look like a bastard, maybe this time he was actually trying to make Frollo look like a bastard. But why?"

"Those all sound like good ideas..."

"But it's not enough. If it's true-"

"-It may not be." But he sounded less sure of himself.

"But if it were, why now? Why would he play with people like that? It can't just be for his own amusement..."

"And... the puppet show?"

"Right, the puppet show! It all comes down to the puppet show. I know it does. I... have to see that puppet show."

Phoebus nodded. "You will," he said seriously. "You'll go to Clopin tomorrow and demand he tell you whatever you want to know."

"I wish it were that easy. You know what it's like, trying to get anything straight out of him."

"Thankfully, my lady, I've never had to try." He ran one hand over her loose hair and kissed her lips. "I can't believe I have you. Have I ever told you that?"

She smiled against his lips. "Nightly. But you can believe in me. I won't leave." She snuggled closer to him, and they fell back against the bed in each other's arms, gazing hungrily.

"But you've left me every night. Every single night since we've known each other."

"But I've come back. That's the mark of a gypsy in love - one who goes back."

"I've never loved a gypsy before," Phoebus confessed.

"I know. I've never loved a Frenchman," said Esmeralda. "Truthfully, if this is love, I

I've never loved anyone."

"Me neither. Wait, when did this turn into a game of who loves who? You're distracting me on purpose."

Esmeralda sighed and rolled onto her back. "I really don't know what to say. I'm sorry... When I know you're next to me, everything feels right. But when I wake up in the middle of the night, and you're asleep, and I remember where I am... I try, but I can't lie here and pretend everything's alright. I feel like this building despises me and I'm not safe here."

"So what's different between now and then?"

Esmeralda shook her head. "Everything's different in the small hours of the morning."

"Wake me up."

"Don't be silly, I'm not going to do that. You need your sleep."

"I need to wake up and have your face be the first thing I see. I need to know you're here with me. I need to stop being afraid that something horrible has happened to you, out there in the streets all alone. Do you know, it's a load on my mind until I see you again?"

Esmeralda pouted. "I didn't know. You never complained before."

"I know I didn't, but it's not because I wasn't bothered. It's because I was afraid that if you knew I wanted you to stay... you would leave. And you wouldn't come back."

"And now?"

"Now..." He traced the curve of her cheekbone, the ridge of her jaw. "I can't pretend anymore. I need you to know how deeply I feel."

"I hear you," she said. There was a tremor in her voice. "I try, but..."

"Wake me up. Please. I'll hold your hand. I'll stay awake with you for the rest of the night. I'll sing to you if you want. But please, let me wake up next to you. Please."

Esmeralda smiled, and she realized she was smiling through tears. "If you get mad at me for waking you up..."

"You have my permission to borrow any device you please from the Chamber and use it on me," he said goofily. She scowled. He felt embarrassed. "I know that was a terrible joke..."

"It was. It was bad," she said seriously. Then she kissed him, hard. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

* * *

><p>"Phoebus... Phoebus, honey... wake up."<p>

"Hmph? Wassamatter?"

"No, it's nothing, it's..."

"Mmmmmph. Whatimeisit?"

"Oh, I don't know... three o'clock?"

"Hmmmmph. Jesus, Esmeralda."

"Remember what you told me? You told me to wake you up if I..." He was already asleep. She rolled her eyes. "Forget it."

She got dressed was about to put her cloak on when she caught sight of Phoebus' face, squished against the pillow. It was too good. She had to kiss it. He snorted and twitched awake. "Why are you dressed?" he grumbled. "Are you going to leave?"

Esmeralda glanced at the shuttered window. "I was thinking about it." Even the tiniest rays of moonlight seeping through were tantalizing to her and she felt like she could have thrown herself out the window if it meant getting out of this building. She laced her fingers through his and brought it to her lips.

"Don't leave. Come on. Stay here. I'll be with you. I'll protect you..." and he trailed off into a snore. Esmeralda laughed. She let her cloak fall to the floor, but made no move to get undressed.

"I don't even know what I think is going to happen," she mused. "It's not like Frollo's going to send a squad through here to..."

Before she could finish her thought, Phoebus was standing dead center in the room, fully awake, brandishing a knife. "WHERE IS HE!"

"He's not! Where the hell did the knife come from!"

Slowly, Phoebus seemed to regain his bearings. He dropped his knife hand to his side and pushed his hair off his face. "Wow."

"Phoebus, are _you_ okay living here?"

Phoebus stared at her as though he wasn't completely sure whether she was real. "I thought I was. I don't know."

She nodded. "Well, are you awake now?"

He held up his knife in response.

"Right. Listen... let's both leave tonight. Together. We'll sleep the rest of the night somewhere else, and then... we should talk."

Phoebus nodded. "I would like that."

They paused on a bridge and gazed back at the palace in silence. With the moon behind it, it looked like some great black void that would swallow the city. Phoebus clutched Esmeralda's hand. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Esmeralda leaned into his shoulder. "I think you're becoming a gypsy."

"Because I don't do well inside stone walls?" He sighed. "Ok. So what kind of walls are we looking for?"

"Ideally something that folds. Something on wheels."

"We can tack wheels onto any house we want. But I have to admit, I'd like something that keeps the rain out... Is wood too rigid?"

"It's definitely a compromise."

"Yeah?" He bent down and kissed her. "You would do wood for me?"

"You have no idea what I'd do for you, baby," she purred.

"Oh really? Would you... jump into a river for me?"

"M-hm."

"Carry me up a thousand steps?"

"In a heartbeat. Would you catch a falling man out of thin air?"

"You can bet on it."

"Would you disobey a direct order, Captain?"

"Consider it done."

They gazed at each other. Then they turned and gazed at the Seine.

* * *

><p>They entered the Court through a gate on the river. Clopin was waiting for them.<p>

"So you escorted her this time," said Clopin as he scrutinized Phoebus.

"Were you waiting for us?"

"I was waiting for her," he purred. Phoebus and Esmeralda looked at each other, and shrugged, and then Phoebus went off down the tunnel toward the Court of Miracles. Esmeralda and Clopin stepped out onto the bank, veins of reflected moonlight dancing on their faces.

Then, he nodded to a spot on the wall a few feet away. Esmeralda immediately recognized the puppet kiosk that had started all this. Clopin lit a torch and disappeared behind the woven flaps.

"That's it?" said Esmeralda tearfully a few minutes later. She was seated on a mossy stone, the dank water line occasionally grazing her skirt. "You didn't have _anything _else to say to them?"

"There was no place in the play for what hadn't yet happened," said Clopin cryptically.

"But you knew. And you knew how it would go."

"Well, I thought it all went rather well. Didn't you?" Clopin grinned at her one last time and skipped off toward the gate.

"Wait..."

He paused but didn't turn.

"Can you tell me why?"

And suddenly, Clopin lost his showman's posture, maybe for the first time Esmeralda had ever seen. He took off his hat very slowly.

"The man with Maria was not her husband. He had left her long before Quasimodo was to be born. The man with her was Tobar, her brother, and my father. It has been my lifelong goal to free my cousin and see his kidnapper die."

"And you did it," she breathed.

Clopin smiled a strangely human smile and turned away.

"Hey," she called, and he halted. "What did Maria name her baby?"

Clopin paused for a long time, closing his eyes as though in thought, raising his nose to the musky dawn and breathing it hungrily. "Maria is dead," he sighed. "Her baby does exist anymore."

And with that, he slinked away along the bank, past the mouth of the tunnel, into the shimmering air. The world was gray. Esmeralda shut the gate on the barest infant rays of the new dawn.

* * *

><p>Please review, especially if you have an opinion on my little theory - did Clopin orchestrate the whole damn movie? Discuss.<p>

-Curlz


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